


Pinion

by Llewcie



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angel!Hannibal, M/M, Wings, because Mads, random angel headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5338100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llewcie/pseuds/Llewcie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Mads thinks Hannibal is a fallen angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinion

**Author's Note:**

> I had to get this out of my head because it was taking up too much space. I apologise. It's unbeta'd, for which I also apologise. I have no idea if anyone would want to read wing!porn in the Hannibal 'verse. If there were interest, and I did write it, the rating would obviously go up.

For a moment, Will could feel nothing over the jarring relocation of his stomach into his throat. He had never thrilled over the sensation of falling-- not even the relative safety of rollercoasters. This tipping over into the void was his final exertion, which he fully intended to end in both their deaths, so in their last moments he clutched Hannibal to him, and Hannibal's strong arms were around his chest, under his arms, squeezing him painfully.

A sharp snap jolted him, and Will's shoulder erupted into a blaze of pain. He screamed in agony, lungs emptying until he could only wheeze in shocky helplessness. Hannibal's arm was still clutching his shoulder and now he felt his knees hefted up level with his hips, and he expected the deep weight of water to crush him but there was a curious lifting underneath the savage pain. Cool salt wind stroked over his damaged cheek, chilling the still-wet blood there. A pained grunt from above his ear made him open his eyes. Hannibal was looking down at him, eyes pulled tight at the corners and mouth a tense black line. Will cast his eyes over and above Hannibal's shoulders, where a thick darkness ruffled in the wind. He could not make sense of it, with what limited sense was still in his head, so he lifted a hesitant hand into the dark mass above him and felt soft pinions and quills, with heavy bone and muscle underneath, straining downwards to heave them above the licking waves. Hannibal murmured his name, once, soft, and Will's everything went black.

The next sensation Will knew was being pressed down on a surface with some give to it. His head rolled to the side and was pulled immediately upright by strong fingers. "Calm, Will. I need to see to this. Soft, my darling." A pinch against his skin, and the world faded away again.

The next time Will woke, the was soft light filtering in from somewhere, perhaps a window. He tried to move but his limbs were sluggish. His hands felt like they weighed a hundred pounds; his legs were pressed down by a heavy weight. He opened his left eye-- his right eye hurt too much, and saw Hannibal lying next to him, eyes closed and breathing warm and deep. Will managed to shift enough to see what was on his legs, and it was the same dark mass he had reached his hand into before. He did so again, and felt the warm heft of what he recognised, bewildered, as a massive wing covering his body in a protective shield. Uncomprehending, he stroked his hand across the rich softness of it, his hands dragging through coverts to brush against the fine, luxurious down underneath. Rucking his hand deeper allowed him to stroke hot, pebbled skin with its thousands of quill follicles. 

Hannibal stirred at that. Will gazed over at him, his hand still buried intimately, and raised his eyebrow. "This is new."

"They have always been here. You have just never seen them." Hannibal's voice was a whisper, barely voiced, and his dark eyes were fixed on Will's. Will looked at him and felt his heart pound twice, painfully, and then settle.

He attempted nonchalance. "Yeah, I think I would remember if I had."

Hannibal gave him a small smile. "You are not afraid," he noted.

"Why would I be afraid? It's you." His hand clenched in the coverts and Hannibal shivered, feathers fluffing. His eyes closed on a sigh, so Will did it again. Hannibal's arms tightened around him.

"That feels very nice. It's been a very long time since anyone but myself has touched them."

"How long?"

"Since I Fell."

Will nodded at that, knowing Hannibal was not talking about their plunge off the cliff. "And when was that?"

"After the massacre of the firstborn."

"In Egypt."

Hannibal nodded, pursed his lips, and sighed. "I would rather not talk about it, especially with your hand so deep in my feathers."

Suddenly Will thought that perhaps he was committing some kind of fallen angel misdemeanor. "Is this okay?"

Hannibal hummed, shoved the wing against Will's hand, quills threading more firmly in-between Will's fingers. "More than okay. It's good. Please don't stop." Hannibal's voice was more breath than sound, an intimacy that Will had never heard from him before. He worked his other hand from under Hannibal's body with great care, the stitches that Hannibal must have put in earlier tugging painfully, and dragged it through the underside of the same part of the wing. The muscle was so thick that he could not feel the pressure of his fingertips from the other side. The heavy bone closest to Hannibal's shoulder, what he supposed would be the humerus, spanned his chest from shoulder to hip, easily a meter long, and the next bone, the radius, folded back up to his other shoulder. The alula, a single foot-long feather that extended from the end of the radius, brushed Will's injured cheek gently. Will turned his head carefully to see the rest of the wing spread open, the huge primaries like individual swords splayed out across the bed and beyond it. In this light the feathers looked like the color of dried blood, but he could see a bright crimson in the stripes of light let in by the cracks in the curtains. 

Will was too exhausted to be overwhelmed, but he felt like he should be. Hannibal was entirely not human, and that both disappointed him and excited him. As he stroked over and under the feathers, he wondered what that made _him_. Being an angel might give Hannibal an excuse for his monstrosity-- what was Will, then?

"Will?" murmured Hannibal. "Where are you now?"

Will hummed, turned back to look at Hannibal's half-closed eyes, gentled with pleasure. "I was wondering," he said, almost convincingly offhand, "What kind of a monster I am, since now I know you aren't human."

Hannibal smiled, a flash of teeth, and his eyes closed. He reached his hand to stroke back Will's hair. "Oh Will. Do you not know that angels were made to protect humankind? What I do is anathema to my own kin. Heaven turned its back on me the moment I found greater joy in the blood and the slaughter that in my service. They stripped me of my glory, but I have claimed my own." He leaned closed, nosed Will's uninjured cheek. "As have you, my beloved, my beautiful Will."

Will trembled at the adoration in Hannibal's voice. "Am I yours, Hannibal?"

In answer, Hannibal's wing tightened gently around Will's body. "I can only tell you that I am yours, entirely. Angels mate for life." He kissed the bridge of Will's nose, his mouth hot. "And by that I mean my life, not yours." He paused to let that sink in. "If we decide to bond, neither of us will survive the severing of it."

Will should have felt something like horror that Hannibal would be willing to die for love of him, something besides the righteous, white-hot joy bubbling up from within, that consumed him with the feeling of rightness, of coming home, of love like a fire that burned the world and didn't stop. "Yes, Hannibal, _yes_ , I want that, please," he breathed. "I want you, for as long as I can have you."

"Then we shall be as one." Hannibal closed the distance between then, his mouth pressing hot and wet against Will's, and it woke every blazing ache in Will's body to press closer, to open his mouth to Hannibal and kiss him, bloody and painful and more than a little desperate. Hannibal groaned into him, and with shaking muscles, lifted Will bodily to slide his other wing underneath, so that Will was cradled in-between, nestled in walls of feathers and braced against Hannibal's body. Will rucked his hands through the coverts, grabbing on to the heavy wing bones and tugging them in closer until he was entirely surrounded, his senses alight with nothing but Hannibal.


End file.
